


in my hands, my heart

by Lyxxie



Series: beck and call [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie continues his fascination with Jughead's moles because I have no control over my life, Blowjobs, I hope everyone is enjoying being baptized in this lake of fire, I tried harder this time, Jarchie - Freeform, M/M, Nonace Jughead, Remember how the last one had a bunch of feels, Thanks for checking in, This has significantly less, i'm still a piece of garbage, just a hundo p porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyxxie/pseuds/Lyxxie
Summary: Jughead's really good at the English language.He knows how to be sarcastic, sardonic, witty. He knows how to make jokes and give speeches and when he swears, it sounds like poetry.Archie loves this about him.But when Archie touches him, cards fingers through his hair, presses thumbs to his hipbones, leaves fingerprints on his thighs –He’s a mess.Archie thinks he might love this the most.ORArchie skillfully turns Jughead into a mess because they have time alone and he wants to. Essentially, an homage to Jughead's inability to be eloquent when turned on.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [duckymclain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckymclain/gifts).



> Look, ma, more porn!
> 
> Uhhhh, so yeah. Hope everyone's feeling bad and garboujee, we're in this together now. 
> 
> As always, bisoux to my sewer babes. xoxo

Jughead's really good at the English language.

  
He knows how to be sarcastic, sardonic, witty. He knows how to make jokes and give speeches and when he swears, it sounds like poetry.

  
Archie loves this about him.

  
He thinks Jughead might _know,_ too, because he gets this look in his eye when he catches Archie watching him write or speak or –

  
Archie watches him a lot.

  
He used to do it when they were kids, cataloguing every twitch and tick, aiming to know everything about Jughead Jones that he could. As they grew up, he was always the fountain of knowledge for his best friend. When the summer hit and Archie didn’t see him, when he came back and they started hanging out again, he was almost afraid to watch him. What if he didn’t move the same anymore? What if two months threw them so far out of sync?

  
But it was the same, like riding a bike, and Archie knew he wouldn’t have minded relearning anyway.

  
He can go back to listening now when Jughead talks about anything at all. He uses words so artfully, sounds so eloquent. Archie sometimes wonders if he can convince him to write songs with him.

  
Jughead’s _really_ good at the English language.

  
But when Archie _touches_ him, cards fingers through his hair, presses thumbs to his hipbones, leaves fingerprints on his thighs –

  
He’s a mess.

  
An unapologetic, vulgar, hot mess. He strings words together at the speed of sound, creates beautiful new swears, and makes noises that Archie would pay money to download onto his iPod.

  
Archie thinks he might love this the most.

  
Sometimes he wants to tell him, but he’s pretty sure Jughead knows that, too.

  
They haven’t been able to get together much since that first afternoon, with school and football and parents getting in the way. Archie hasn’t had the opportunity to spend time with Jughead on a _bed,_ god forbid, or anything more comfortable than a wall. He hasn’t gotten the chance to take his time, to undress all of him.

  
Which is why he’s doing that now.

  
Now that Archie’s got him on his bed, riled up, shirt off, and they’ve got the next couple hours alone _at least._ Now that he can lean back on his knees and look at him lying against his pillows, the skin of his chest so fair and dotted with beautiful moles.

  
“What?” Jughead asks, eyes open and eyebrows drawn in together when he notices Archie hasn’t moved in a few moments. Archie notices the self-conscious blush bleed across his cheeks as his hands edge over his abdomen.

  
“Nothing.” Archie smiles, gaze meeting his. Jughead looks almost skeptical, and Archie can’t help but lean down again to kiss him. He can feel the sheets under his fingers, hear their jeans creak as they shift, but he sees the corners of Jughead’s lips twitch up in a smile before he closes his eyes, and Archie’s body sings. He holds himself up with one hand and lays his palm on Jughead’s stomach, fingers curled around his side. Jughead’s breath comes out in a whoosh past Archie’s lips, and he can feel hands alight solidly on his shoulders.

  
He spends time kissing him, marvelling in the glide of their lips and the feeling of Jughead's tongue curling around his. Archie tugs once, gently, on Jughead’s bottom lip as he presses more firmly against his skin, and hears the sharp intake of breath in stereo.

  
“Arch,” Jughead starts, and Archie lowers himself to fit their hips together in a slow drag. “Jesus _fuck,”_ Archie laughs, pulling back to catch the look of hunger on the other’s face, but Jughead doesn’t let him get far, chasing him up. There’s a hand in his hair as Jughead demonstrates that he wasn’t done kissing him yet, fingers finding purchase among the strands. Archie smiles against him, pressing his hips forward again to elicit groans from them both.

  
Jughead’s plucks at the fabric of Archie’s shirt along the back of his shoulder, and Archie straightens momentarily to pull it off his body. When he leans back in it's at Jughead’s neck, sighing against his skin as fingers smooth along his shoulder blades. He kisses along the slope of his throat as Jughead tilts his head with a noise that makes Archie press into him again. There’s predictability when Archie runs his teeth along the line of his neck and Jughead’s whole body hitches with a shiver and a breath, and there’s unpredictability when Jughead trails firm fingers along the bumps in Archie's spine only to stop halfway down and go back up with blunt nails. Archie ruts into him again with a soft moan, and moves his hand with only slight reluctance to pull at the buckle on Jughead’s jeans.

  
Jughead pushes gently at Archie's shoulder with a hushed laugh, following the pages with ease and going to work undoing his belt. Archie sits back on his heels to watch, eyes torn between the smile on his lips or the way his fingers work quick and sure. It’s when Jughead lifts his hips up to show the skin of his hips as he works his pants down that Archie’s fate is decided, gaze stuck on each new inch of skin revealed.

  
“Little help, maybe?” Jughead’s voice is teasing and Archie blinks at him before leaning forward to kiss him again, slow and heavy and thorough. He can feel the greediness through the other's mouth, and reaches a hand between them to tug Jughead’s pants down his thighs. When they get down to his knees he lifts his lower half up so that Jughead can kick himself out, ankles pressing into himself to drag the fabric down, but only waits until one leg is free before squeezing his hip and dragging together again. Jughead’s moan is broken, body canting up for more friction as his mouth falls open.

  
Archie begins a new trail, sliding down his body with lazy purpose. He presses teeth to his collarbone to hear what he thinks might be a bastardization of his name and smiles, pressing soft kisses to each mole on his way down, like paying tribute at temples. The hand is back in his hair and he pauses briefly, lips beside Jughead’s bellybutton, just to feel that greedy tug. “Jug,” he murmurs against his skin and feels him jump with the sensation, breath caught. “I want-“

  
“I know, Arch, I can put two and two together.” There’s a light impatience in Jughead’s tone to hide hunger and Archie smiles, tilting his chin forward to rake his eyes up Jughead's chest and catch his gaze. He waits a moment, taking a deep breath and blowing it out over fraying nerves. Jughead makes a soft noise and tightens the hand in his hair minutely, unclenching on the next breath.

  
“You’re sure?” Archie can’t help but tease. He’s sure he's losing at hiding the smug look on his face. Jughead raises an eyebrow and squeezes Archie's shoulder, watching his eyes darken.

  
“I want you to write ‘Archie Andrews is an asshole' on my gravestone when this inevitably kills me. Do me that kind-“ Archie ducks down, licking along the underside of Jughead’s shaft from base to tip in one smooth motion. He pulls back as the boy under him bucks up, words replaced by colourful swears. The hands on his skin are clenching and unclenching without rhythm and he watches the brief rapture flit over Jughead’s features.

  
“Sorry, you were saying?”

  
Jughead’s lips are parted, eyes fluttering open. The normal blue hue is hard to see from Archie’s position, and they look almost black. “Arch,” his voice is strained, and Archie licks his lips absent-mindedly. “Please.” Archie swallows, unable to help himself. He watches him again for another second before nestling in between Jughead’s knees.

  
“Since you asked so nicely, and all…” he murmurs, lowering his head back down to blow out a puff of air over the head of Jughead’s dick. It bobs slightly, on beat with the hitch in Jughead’s breath, and Archie brackets his mouth around the head, careful not to touch him. He inches down slowly, making sure that Jughead can only feel the heat of his mouth without any actual contact. There’s something that sounds deliciously like a whine rattling in Jughead’s ribcage and he fights not to smile, squirming his lower half against the bed.

  
“A-Arch…” The room is so quiet that Archie can hear Jughead swallow thickly, fingernails scraping against his scalp. He almost wants to pull back, to tell him to be patient, to ask him to let him do this as slowly as he can manage, but there’s no pushing against his head or force applied anywhere on his body, and his heart feels warm. He risks a glance up at Jughead’s stomach to find that the muscles are twitching in his effort to be still, and the whine has notched up in volume. He decides that it’s enough, that he wants to hear more noises, and latches his lips around where he left off along Jughead’s length.

  
_“Jesus-“_ Jughead drags out the last syllable in a hiss, hips lifting slightly before crashing back down to the sheets. Archie’s mouth stretches around him in a smile as he curls the flat of his tongue along the underside in a lazy slide. A gasp tears itself from Jughead and the fingers in his hair flex in place. Archie hums around him and hears a whimpered curse, pulling off him with a soft laugh. He looks up across the sight of him again to find that Jughead's cracked an eye open, chest heaving.

  
“Arch, god _damnit_ , you are the _worst-“_ he breaks off with a hoarse moan as Archie closes around the tip, sucking quick and hard for just a moment. Jughead flings his other hand up into his own hair, as if trying to ground them both, and Archie pulls back one more to slide wet lips over Jughead’s hip. Jughead shoots a string of mainly incomprehensible swears at the ceiling and Archie grins to himself in victory.

  
“I want to make you feel good.” He says softly, pressing the words into his skin like a promise. Jughead snorts above him, and he peeks up to find eyes watching, full of a swirling mix of emotions that makes Archie’s heart thud solidly in his chest.

  
“You already do, you cretin.” Jughead mutters, smile quirking the corners up. Archie laughs, eyes crinkling, and feels more than hears the echoing laugh from the boy underneath him. He switches the arm propping him up and places the other along Jughead’s side, thumb tracing up a curving path. The hitch returns to Jughead’s breath and Archie turns his face back to kiss his hipbone. He edges teeth over the juncture of his hip and Jughead curses brokenly, hips bucking up unbidden. Archie tucks away the discovery of the sensitive area, and gives his attention back finally to his cock, lying shiny and wet against Jughead’s stomach. He moves it back in front of his mouth as Jughead shudders, and meets his eyes. Archie smiles, and can almost see the multitude of sarcastic responses flitting through Jughead’s brain before he nods jerkily.

  
He abandons slow, leaves behind anything but the feeling of being in this moment, the heat of their skin and the way his name sounds just right as Jughead breathes it out when he lowers his lips over his cock. Archie gets down as far as he can, nose against coarse curls, and waits a beat before pulling back up just enough to swallow around him. The groan Jughead gives sounds like the opening to a symphony, fingers sliding through his hair and his other hand coming to rest on his shoulder. He begins a pattern, curling his tongue around on the way down and hollowing out his cheeks on the way up, and Jughead tilts his head back, breath panting and words sparse.

  
Archie slides his hand down over Jughead’s hipbone, less to hold him in place and more to feel the rhythm as he moves, hips rolling with the upstroke. He glances up to see the sweat glowing along Jughead’s throat and moans softly, hips rutting into the mattress as Jughead cries out. He feels the blunt scratch of nails just above his ear and lets the shiver run through him, murmuring Jughead's name over the head.

  
“God, fuck, _fuck,”_ Jughead breaks off in a loud groan as Archie flicks his tongue over the slit. “Arch, shit, _Arch,”_ His panting is louder now, and Archie can feel the twitch and spasm of each muscle in his thigh as he drags his hand down it firmly. He can tell without looking that Jughead is a mess, sounds pouring over each other like a race, but he looks up anyway to confirm and moans again around his flesh. He removes his hand, sure there are new fingerprints now, and circles it around Jughead’s dick, pumping up as he sucks.

  
Archie bets on having matching fingerprints on his skin, if the pressure on his shoulder is anything to go by. He feels a tug up, brief and small, flashing him an exit sign if he wants it, and Jughead tries to speak again. “Arch, I – _nngh,“_ he warns, before his jaw snaps shut and his shoulders arch off the bed as Archie ignores the sign and glances just the very edge of his teeth briefly over the vein underneath his cock. The hand on his shoulder shakes and slides down to lay over Archie’s hand on the sheets, and Archie switches his weight for a moment to his wrist to turn it and lace their fingers together. Jughead’s other hand roves over his head again, clenching sporadically, and when Archie throats him down and hums again, he comes with a groan of his name.

  
Archie swallows steadily, flavour across his tongue like a brand, and pulls off when Jughead’s breath hitches again with too much stimulation. He flops down beside him, crooked grin in place, fingers still crossed between them, and watches Jughead's face unabashedly as the other works at catching his breath. The smile creeps across Jughead’s face in seconds and he sweeps his thumb over Archie’s hand, resting the other on his stomach. Archie watches him blink open bleary eyes to seemingly take stock of the ceiling before turning his head just a bit to meet his gaze. Jughead opens his mouth to speak and thinks better of it, raising his hand to curl around Archie’s neck and pull their lips together. Archie laughs gently against him and feels their smiles meld together before Jughead pulls back.

  
“You’re going to need to give me a solid minute before I can reciprocate.” He muses, and Archie knows he's still grinning, wonders if either of them will ever stop.

  
“Figured, you being so flustered and all.”

  
_“Flustered?_  Really?”

  
“Yeah. I like it, ‘cretin’ that I am.” Jughead laughs again and pulls him in for another kiss as Archie squeezes his hand and wonders if maybe there isn’t one thing above the rest that he loves the most about Jughead.


End file.
